


Sand and Hope

by desreelee123



Series: Home [2]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desreelee123/pseuds/desreelee123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tastes of sand and grit when he kisses her</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sand and Hope

I

 

            He tastes of sand and grit when he kisses her. There is something thorough and articulate about the way he touches her. When he touches her thigh or nips at her neck, it is not some small, random action that wantonness gave birth to. It is part of a big schematic that usually culminated in an explosion of nerves and the overloading of synapses.

            He is sand inside her and she is fire. Scorching. Relentless.

            Afterwards, he rolls out from on top of her and she rolls out from under him. She stands up, gathers her garments, and goes about the duties of her day while he comes down from his high.

            For them, sex is like fire and ice colliding together, creating a kaleidoscope of colors and scenery.

            When she comes back from her rounds, sometimes he is there, sometimes he is gone, but his smell—motor oil and sand—always lingers like a perfume. Even long after he is gone, she can still smell him, thick and hot and sweaty like the turmoil that follows him everywhere he goes.

            He usually comes back a few months after his last visit, sometimes a few years—Furiosa really doesn’t know, nor does she really care. The Citadel keeps her busy enough. There is always something to inspect, something to resolve. The Wretched screams and hails her like a god. She is the first one in a long time to show them what living actually means.

            And yet, she refuses to be acknowledged as one.

            This is her redemption after all.

II

            She learns from Toast that his name is Max. Apparently, he told her his name while she was plunged deep into a stupor teetering between the threshold of life and death and everything in between. She doesn’t remember much after ripping off Immortan’s mask. But she does remember her exaltation.

            _“Remember me.”_

            She watches Toast as she takes inventory of the ammunition and the guzzoline in stock. Amongst the Wives, she has always been the least helpless. She knew how to load a gun and how to fire one if need be. Furiosa thinks that she must’ve been the Devil before that old man snatched her away from where she belonged and took her as his.

            Furiosa sees the same fire in her eyes that used to burn so fervently in her own.

            Sand blows into her eyes and she squints.

            Furiosa thinks: Maybe she can be a devil if she wants to.

            She compares Toast to a beetle as she moves. Soft and delicate yet always with purpose. Never wasting any energy on unnecessary jerks. She barks orders at her newly appointed apprentices and they immediately scamper off to do as they’re told.

            Then she turns to face her, brown eyes and all.

            “Do you need something?”

            She shakes her head and stands up from the crate that she was sitting on.

III

            Furiosa makes peace with the two lands she had disturbed on her search of the green place of many mothers. She needs their alliances after all. She can’t afford to be constantly at war with the two. And she was pretty sure the two lands also shared the same sentiments.

            They appoint new leaders and all is well.

            This way, all she has to deal with are the random pockets of troublemakers with no clear allegiances that can be easily taken care of when the need arises. Sometimes, there are new people that come from unknown lands and unknown places, their eyes desperate and pleading for a new home. Furiosa always grants them a home in the Citadel.

            Nobody deserves to be cast out. Just like her, they are people in need.

            (No one knows the pain of being cast out like she does when she was fourteen and taken from her home to be a slave to the whims of a War Boy…or Boys because she, thankfully, wasn’t perfect enough back then to be a Wife.)

            Furiosa doesn’t like rehashing out the past during her spare time.

IV

            She dreams of him during some nights when the night is too hot and stuffy and the room too empty. Those are the only times when she allows herself to ponder about his whereabouts. About what he’s doing now. (Or if he’s also thinking about her.)

            Those nights usually end in her drifting off into a dreamless sleep, eyes and mind too tired to do anything else. Then she gets up in the morning and there are bags under her eyes and her ears just ache from hearing the sounds of adoration people make whenever she’s around. By this time, they are no longer the Wretched.

            Flesh has filled the space between bones and skin to make them look more humanlike instead of the pieces of living, starving skeleton they were reduced to during Immortan’s reign. Their clothing has improved somewhat too.

            (Their eyes are also more hopeful too. And that scares Furiosa. It is something she is not accustomed to witnessing.)

            Green starts to fill out some of the pockets of sand in the Citadel. People have taken to farming now that water is no longer limited and seldom available. They plant sweet peas and jojobas.

            The War Boys are no longer War Boys rather they’re just boys nowadays. (Although they still go to war to fight the troublemakers that deign to knock at the Citadel’s gates.) They help out in farming sometimes but most of the time they are tutored by the more eminent peoples of the Citadel. Furiosa loves to watch their learning from afar. She loves how their eyes brim with light from newfound knowledge.

            Maybe, she thinks, she can hope a little too.

V

            Max comes back on a cool day. There is a distinct rumbling of engines amidst the sand and Furiosa hears it before the sentries do.

            (Years of being surrounded by the War Fury and scores of engines and you can smell engine oil even from across the stretch of sand and sun.)

            He comes through the gates and parks his car at the edge of the civilization. (Always at the edge. He is always poised to leave.)

            She greets him with her usual, “What do you need?” and he answers with his usual, “Maybe a few liters of guzzoline; some food maybe…if you’ve got it.”

            And of course she’s got it. Things have become more and more plentiful nowadays. (Hope.)

            He then goes to her humble quarters and waits there. (She refused to stay in the more luxurious ones that Immortan left and instead gave it to the people as a place where pregnant women can nurse their babies until they’re able to walk.) And she comes around a little after dusk after she’s done with her day’s work and they would kiss fervently and anxiously, pouring all of their pent-up sexual frustrations into one kiss.

            She’s always the one who sheds her clothes first, slow and calculating as she watches his eyes trail up the expanse of exposed skin. He pulls her down toward him and lays her on the floor like a goddess and he pours his affection into her. He trails kisses down her neck and caresses the soft skin of her arms. Furiosa lets out a moan and grinds at his member with a fervor that is only reserved for him. That’s around the time when she makes him takes his shirt and pants off and leaves him in nothing but his underwear.

            They coax each other into their climaxes and sees who explodes first. There is nothing quite rough about the whole thing yet it is not wholly soft at the same time.

            He explodes first, spilling liquid heat into her depths, and she comes soon afterwards, panting and sweating and convulsing.

            She wonders if this is what redemption is like.

            After they’ve come down from their high, this time she doesn’t get up and gather her clothes. The day is over after all and there are no more rounds. He, too, doesn’t make a move of leaving.

            They just look at each other.

            Finally, she deigns to ask, “Are you staying this time?”

            He looks down and then looks up at her again.

            Maybe that is all the answer she is looking for.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first Mad Max fanfic and this is also my first time writing Furiosa/Max. Please sound off in the comments below for your honest opinions and leave kudos if you liked it. Thanks a lot for reading this.


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